Breaking Down Doors
by meganechan720
Summary: Karai moves in with Chaplin after getting kicked out of the Foot. It's not really a romance, though Chaplin wishes it was.
1. Chapter 1

_This came from a Fic Challenge called A Year Without Turtles. Plus I've always been intrigued by the hints of KaraixChaplin in the show. It seems an odd pairing to make canon. I posted this over at Stealthy Stories a while ago, and I thought you guys might like it too. All the action takes place during Fast Forward and Back to the Sewers, and begins some time after the turtles left for the future._

* * *

><p>"I will inform my maid of my change in address," Karai said, pushing past him. Chaplin let himself be pushed, gaping at the sight of her in his apartment. At the sight of her in casual clothes. Were those—jeans? She dropped the small bag she carried on the couch and entered the kitchen, frowning at the piles of dishes on the counter tops. "Clearly she has much work to do," she muttered. Chaplin finally managed to close his mouth and the front door.<p>

"Uh, Mistress?" he queried. "What, uh… I mean, not that I'm not honored by your presence, as always, but… Why are you here?"

She snapped her gaze to his, as though she had forgotten he was there.

"I live here now," she said slowly, as though to a simpleton, and then disappeared into the bathroom.

* * *

><p>Chaplin awoke with a start to heavy breathing. He peeked over the edge of the couch and found his Mistress, apparently in the throes of training.<p>

"Uh…"

"A ninja starts her day early," she said in a clipped tone. Chaplin scrambled for his glasses and squinted at the clock.

"Seriously Mistress? It's three in the morning. I'm pretty sure even you don't wake up _that_ early."

"Do you question me, worm?" she hissed, thrusting her face into his. He backed up, falling off the couch and scrambling to his feet.

"No, no, of course not! It's just… well, to repeat my earlier question… why are you here?"

She dropped her arms out of stance and appeared to deflate slightly.

"I am no longer welcome at Saki manor."

"But—but you _own_ Saki manor."

"Not," she hissed. "Anymore." And went back to training.

Chaplin made coffee.

* * *

><p>Eventually he got the story out of her: after gaining enough power to scale down the operations that had included Chaplin, Khan had forcibly removed Karai from Saki Enterprises, the Foot, and eventually her own quarters. And she'd had nowhere else to go but here. Not that she said as much. But Chaplin knew if she had anywhere else to be, she'd be there.<p>

"We have much work to do, Chaplin. I will not allow that man to steal everything my Master worked so hard to build. Do you still have access to the computer systems?"

Chaplin spilled his coffee, wiping himself down as he answered.

"Ah, I uh, well… I could probably hack in…"

"Good. Do so. Inform me of Khan's movements."

"Wh-where are you going?" he asked her retreating back.

"The store. You have no tea."

* * *

><p>In the end, though, there was nothing they could do.<p>

Chaplin looked at his Mistress, her eyes staring into nothing. It scared him. He'd never seen her so unfocused. In fact, he'd never seen her even look thoughtful. She was always present, always intense.

"Nothing?" she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper.

"No, Mistress." Her tone scared him even more than her unfocused eyes. Her lips pressed tightly together in a thin line. Then,

"I see." And she got up and went into the bedroom, closing the door carefully behind her. He hesitated for a moment, and then got up and knocked.

"Mistress?" No answer. Chaplin was suddenly afraid. "Mistress?" he called louder, trying the doorknob. Damn. She'd locked it. "Mistress Karai, please let me in. I… I know what you're doing in there." He prayed he was wrong.

"Chaplin," came her soft voice, "You have always been my loyal vassal, and for that I am grateful. Now please allow me the one honor left to me."

He was right.

"No!"

Forgetting, for a moment, any consideration of physics or respect for personal property, he backed up and kicked at the door. To the surprise of them both it flung open, the flimsy lock giving way. He froze, shocked that it had actually worked.

"Your landlord will not like that," she said wryly, her voice still soft, but less weak. He strode in and carefully took the unsheathed blade out of her unresisting hands.

"He'd like blood spatter on the carpet even less!" Chaplin snapped, the broken door and the katana making him feel dangerous. She merely looked at him coolly. The dangerous feeling left him, and he set the katana aside. "I know things look bad right now," he tried.

"I have nothing to live for anymore," she said flatly. "The turtles took away my family, and Khan has taken everything else."

"You still have me." The words came before he could stop them. She gave him an almost kind look, and he could hear the unspoken rebuke: _What good are you to me?_

"You said I was your loyal vassal," he tried again. "What is a vassal without a Mistress? I'd make a terrible ronin."

And she laughed.

"Yes, you would," she agreed. He knelt before her, meeting her eyes more boldly than he ever had before.

"I don't have much to offer you, Mistress, but what I do have, I will gladly give you. Including…" He gulped. He was not at all sure this was the appropriate time for this. "Including my heart."

She was silent, and frowning.

"Chaplin, I do not—"

"I know you don't return the feeling," he said, with only a very little pang, after all. "But that's okay. You don't have to. I'm still yours, in whatever capacity you want me."

She reached out and cupped his face in her hand, her expression almost tender.

"Very well," she said after a long while. "I will put this aside," gesturing to the sword on the table, "for now." He heard the words she did not say: _I make no promise to you that I will not take it up again in the future._

This was good enough for him. For now.


	2. Chapter 2

"Chaplin."

The one being addressed cringed, and straightened up from his not-very-sneaky-after-all tip-toe stance. The lights flicked on, and there was Karai, arms crossed in the doorway, looking for all the world like a strict parent confronting a wayward child.

"Where are you going?"

"Uh… nowhere?" He tried a winning smile. The frown on her face did not change. He slumped.

"I was going to see… _mumble mumble_…"

"What was that?" she said in a soft, dangerous voice. "I didn't quite hear you."

_Nothing else for it,_ he thought, straightening and taking in a bracing breath.

"I was going to see April O'Neil," he announced in a clear voice. Again her face did not change, and that was the most frightening thing she could have done.

"The O'Neil woman." Her voice was flat. Chaplin broke out in a sweat.

"Yeah. We're actually, um… old classmates. Yeah. We, uh…"

"Do not lie to me, Chaplin," she said, moving smoothly out of the doorway and into the room, standing before him imperiously. "What were you seeing her about?"

The completely emotionless tone to her voice scared the crap out of Chaplin, but he hadn't worked for ninjas and mad scientists all those years for nothing. He lined up his flashcards of lies and excuses, and then threw them all out and faced her with nothing but the truth.

"I was going to see if she could help us… help you," he said, and this time the muscles in her face moved. He couldn't name the expression, but it was better than the nothing there before.

"Explain," was all she said, arms crossed.

"Well, I was thinking, under normal circumstances, when someone attempts to commit suicide, the proper treatment is counseling of some kind, but since these are far from normal circumstances, I thought the next best thing might just be someone to talk to, someone who wouldn't think you were crazy or put you in jail."

"And you thought the best person for this was Miss O'Neil." Again with the flat tone, but this time it was in disbelief. He shrugged helplessly.

"Well, she's been through a lot of the same things you've been through, and she knows what it's like to be around ninjas, and…" He hoped this didn't sound sexist or insulting, "she's a woman, too."

"She is the enemy!" Karai hissed, taking a step forward. Oh yeah. That was probably more insulting than sexism could ever be. "Why would she wish to talk to me? And what makes you think I would ever wish to speak to her?"

"Well, who else are you going to talk to about all this?" Chaplin shot back, losing his temper. "Splinter?"

Her lip curled in distaste.

"And anyway, he's not around anymore. April's the only one!"

"Why not… you?" It sounded like it was physically difficult for her to force the words past her lips. He rolled his eyes.

"We both know that isn't going to work. Listen, Mistress, I really think you should give this a chance. I mean, what's the worst that could happen? She could say no. And then we'd just be back where we started."

She actually seemed to be thinking the idea over.

"I repeat my earlier question," she said finally. "What reason would she have to speak to me?"

"Well," Chaplin said, shrugging, "that's kind of what I was going to see her about. She did help you out when you were injured."

"Only because the turtles asked her to. She told me herself she would have left me to die."

Chaplin cringed. He hadn't known that.

"Well, I admit, there's some, uh… bad blood between you two. But now that you're not part of the Foot anymore, and the turtles aren't around, I think this is a chance for you two to settle your differences and see what you have in common."

Karai scoffed.

"The only thing I have in common with that woman is the turtles. And even in that we are on opposite sides. Chaplin, this will not work. But I give you permission to try, if only so that you will give up the idea once and for all."

It took Chaplin a moment to take in the meaning of her words, but then his face brightened and he bounced on his toes.

"Thank you, Mistress. I won't let you down."

"Pray that you do not," she said, and then hesitated. He could tell she'd merely said the words out of habit. He bowed, and left, not giving her time to say anything else. He was going to do this. Come hell or high water.

* * *

><p>Or Casey Jones.<p>

He'd forgotten all about the man: forgotten he was April's boyfriend, forgotten he practically lived with her, and especially forgotten how intimidating he could be. He was no ninja, but he was large and muscular and deadly with a hockey stick. Chaplin stared practically cross-eyed at the business end of such an implement being held an inch from his nose.

"Whaddya want, Chaplin?" he demanded, holding April behind him. Chaplin took a step backwards, and then remembered why he was here. He cleared his throat and managed to peel his eyes off the splintered wood.

"I'm here on my Mistress's behalf," he said, trying not to let his voice shake. "I'd like to speak to April, if that's alright."

"Like hell—" Casey began, but April pushed him aside easily.

"What does Karai want? I thought once those Foot ninja keeping tabs on us left we'd heard the last of her. If this is about the guys, I have no idea—"

"No, no, it's nothing like that. Look," Chaplin said, suddenly tired. He was a scientist, not a negotiator. Not a warrior. Not brave, not strong, not… anything. "Karai isn't part of the Foot anymore. She isn't part of anything anymore, and she's… she's not dealing with it very well. She, ah…" he rubbed his face, eyeing April and trying to decide how to phrase it. _To hell with it_, he thought. "She tried to kill herself."

Casey actually smirked, but there was a hint of compassion in April's eyes that gave Chaplin hope. He spoke quickly before it could be extinguished.

"I was hoping you'd be willing to, I don't know, talk to her. Try to help her out. Help her see that life's worth living."

"I say the world'd be better off without her in it," Casey said, but April nudged him hard in the ribs.

"Casey!" she rebuked. "She did help us out with the demon Shredder. She's not all bad. And Leo believed in her once."

"Yeah, and you remember how well _that_ turned out," he argued. "Babe, you can't be seriously considerin' this. This is _Karai_ we're talkin' about. Just tell him to get lost."

But April shook her head.

"If she actually tried to commit suicide, then things must be really bad. Maybe I can get through to her…"

"Don't even think about it, babe," Casey said sternly. "I'm puttin' my foot down for this one. I think it's a bad idea."

She turned the full force of her glare on him, and he cowered before it. _Yup_, Chaplin thought to himself. _She's got more in common with Mistress than they both give her credit for._

"I don't remember making you my legal guardian, Casey Jones," she said icily. "Or my father, or my bodyguard. If I want to do this then I'm going to do it."

Chaplin's heart gave a great leap. The muscle-bound hockey player had actually helped make up April's mind without even realizing it! This was perfect! She turned back to Chaplin, eyes fierce.

"Listen, mister, this better not be a trick of some kind. I still don't trust you _or_ her. If we're going to do this, we're doing it on _my _terms."

Chaplin nodded, suddenly more afraid of the finger April was jabbing into his chest than the hockey stick from earlier. April nodded, satisfied.

"Tell your Mistress if she wants to talk, I'm willing to meet her."

"I'll… I'll tell her," Chaplin said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Though, to be honest, she isn't much more thrilled with the idea than you are."

April's eyes drained of their fire and filled with compassion again. Chaplin thought having such rapid mood swings must be exhausting. Not for the first time, he was glad he was male.

"This was all your idea, huh?" she asked. He nodded again. She got another gleam in her eye, one that told him it wasn't only his Mistress who could see right through him. "Well, good luck with that. I'll do what I can, but something tells me she's going to need you a lot more than she needs me."

Chaplin couldn't help but grin at that, even though he knew it wasn't true.

"Thanks, April!" he exclaimed, and dodged on last halfhearted swing of Casey's stick. "I'll let you know when and where!"

"Good luck," she muttered again, closing the door.


	3. Chapter 3

At their first session, the two women sat in silence for over five minutes. Finally Karai spoke.

"I am uncertain as to what exactly Chaplin hoped for this to accomplish."

April shrugged.

"I think he just wanted us to talk."

"I know that. But what about? There is nothing to say."

"He probably wanted you to talk about how you're feeling."

Karai rolled her eyes, standing up and striding to the window.

"How I'm feeling," she repeated. "What does that matter? I was trained as a ninja, and ninja do not sit and contemplate our _feelings._ We do what needs to be done, regardless of how we feel about it."

"Is that why you spared Leo's life all those times?" April said wryly. Karai's mouth puckered like she'd bitten something sour.

"Do not bring them into this," she said. "The turtles are gone, and that is exactly how I want them to stay."

April reined her anger in tightly, only allowing her expression to sour a bit to match Karai's.

"All right. I have a question, then. What did you want to be? Before the Shredder found you and raised you? What did you dream of becoming when you were a little girl?"

Karai's mouth relaxed into a soft smile.

"What did I want to be when I was a child, Miss O'Neil?" she said in a silky voice. "Alive at the end of the day. What did I want before I met Oroku Saki? Enough food to last me through another night. I had no dreams beyond those, Miss O'Neil. Saki did not merely give me a home. He gave me a life. A purpose. Something I no longer have."

April ran through what she was about to say in her mind, and then said carefully,

"It's true a lot of things ended when the Shredder was defeated, and when you lost the Foot. But it doesn't have to mean your whole _life_ ended. You're still alive. You can do whatever you want."

"No, I cannot, Miss O'Neil." Her voice was still soft. "What I want is my life back, but that is impossible."

"Then find something else to live for," April snapped. Karai turned her head at the outburst, frowning over her shoulder. April sighed. "I know what it's like to lose everything, Karai. To have to start over. And I know it's not easy. But it can be done."

"What do you know about it?" the black-haired woman hissed, whirling around, fists clenched. "I have nothing left, _nothing_. Don't tell me you know what it is like."

"I _do_ know what it's like, Karai." April could match her, fire for fire. "Your dear old dad burned down my store. My home. Every material possession I owned besides the clothes on my back was in that building. And in a matter of minutes it was all gone. So, yes, I do know what it's like to have nothing, and if you can't figure out a way to start over then you're not the woman I thought you were."

"You," Karai hissed, "still have your family."

April suddenly felt the fire leave her, and she sat down.

"No, I don't," she whispered. "I don't know where they are."

Karai frowned.

"I was referring to your human family, not those… mutants."

April shook her head slowly.

"All I've got is a sister I barely talk to and an uncle who spends most of his time either on the other side of the world or in another world altogether."

"No… mother and father?"

April shook her head again.

"Not anymore. Before I met the guys, it was pretty much just me."

The room was loud with private thoughts. April broke it first.

"So, are you and Chaplin…?"

"_No._"

April laughed, holding up her hands.

"Just asking. He obviously likes you."

Karai sighed.

"Indeed. It is most annoying."

April laughed again.

"Why keep him around, then?"

"He is… the only one left who is loyal to me. I cannot so easily cast that aside, even if it means I must endure his persistence. His is the only home I had to go to."

"Wait—you live with him?"

April didn't know if she should be shocked or not. Forget propriety—Karai and Chaplin in the same apartment? It boggled the mind.

"Yes."

"Do you pay rent?"

"What? Of course not. Don't be absurd."

"But… you said Khan even took your accounts."

"Yes?" Karai didn't see where this is going.

"So, what, are you living on Chaplin's money?"

"I suppose."

April glared at her.

"Karai, that's terrible. He doesn't even have a job right now. How is he supporting two people on no income?"

Karai was ashamed to realize she hadn't thought of that.

"I do not know," she said slowly. "He's seems to be managing."

"Oh, Karai, Chaplin's the kind of guy who would starve himself to make sure you're fed."

"We did not pay him so ill when he was in the employ of the Foot. And that was not so very long ago. I am sure he has funds sufficient for our needs."

April shrugged.

"Still. You need a job, Karai."

She recoiled at the very idea.

"No, no, hear me out. You can't just keep sitting in Chaplin's apartment all day. That's not healthy for anyone. You should get a job."

"Doing what? No one wants to hire a ninja warrior. My business skills do me no good, since Khan has tarnished my name in all of my former circles."

"I don't know, and I don't really care, to be honest. But you need a job, that much is clear."

Karai had known this would be a waste of time.

* * *

><p>"You could open a dojo!"<p>

Karai wished, not for the first time, that she hadn't told Chaplin about April's advice. He had latched onto it with all the fervor of a monkey grabbing a pickle in a jar, though she was the one who felt trapped.

"The secret and ancient arts of ninjutsu are not to be passed on for money," she snapped, setting a fork down forcefully on the table. "Besides, it takes capital to open a business, something I do not have."

"You could get a loan."

"I am not discussing this with you, Chaplin." She straightened and went to get the glasses.

"Not discussing the dojo idea, or the whole job idea altogether?"

Sometimes, Karai mused, as she rummaged in the cupboard for matching glassware, she forgot that Chaplin wasn't a total idiot.

"I admit," she said slowly, "that finding employment might not be a bad idea. But there is no job for me to have."

"We'll find something," he said hopefully, giving the soup one last stir. "It's ready."

"Thank you," she said, the words coming easier than she'd thought they would. His non-reaction was loud. He stirred the soup needlessly a few times, and then turned and gave her a brittle smile.

"Soup's up!" he said brightly. Too brightly. She was never thanking him for anything again.

* * *

><p>After a few more sessions, she got a phone call from April.<p>

"Hey, Karai, I was wondering if you and Chaplin wanted to go on a double date with me and Casey?

For one moment Karai considered it. April was just being nice, a bit of a novel experience for the daughter of the Shredder. But thinking back on her former life (it still stung to have to call it her former life) made her remember who she was and to whom she was speaking, so she snapped,

"I do not go on dates with the enemy! And I certainly do not go on dates with Chaplin, do you understand me? I don't know when I gave the impression I would welcome such familiarity, but—"

"Okay, okay, sheesh, Karai, a simple no would suffice," April muttered. "Sometimes I don't know what Chaplin sees in you."

Karai could not let that go unchallenged.

"He sees someone strong when he is weak."

"And you know something, Karai? Someday he's going to wake up and realize he doesn't have a chance with you, and then what are you going to do?"

"What—what am _I_ going to do? I do not need him!"

"Yes, you do, more than he needs you. And when he finally leaves, who's going to be left, Karai? Not me, apparently. You'll be all alone and it will be all your fault."

"Do not speak to me that way!" Karai screamed, a familiar bubble rising in her chest. She supposed in a lesser mortal it would have been panic. "I am still a ninja, and I still know how to wield a blade."

"And even if you cut me up into a thousand pieces, Karai, it wouldn't change the fact that you're just a lonely little girl who can't stand to let people get close to you. Give Chaplin my condolences."

She hung up. Karai gripped the phone so tightly it shattered, piercing her hands with plastic shards. She didn't notice.

* * *

><p>Karai knew. She knew she wouldn't do it, knew she was only holding the blade so that when Chaplin came back he would see it and take it from her, and she would scream at him and order him to allow her the release of death, and he would get that fire in his eyes and order her to live. And she would follow the order because she had no one giving her orders anymore and she didn't know how to deal with that.<p>

The knowing burned and writhed and seemed worse than death.

But Chaplin never came home.

* * *

><p>She found him lying in an alley. Mugged by a neighborhood gang, hardly big or powerful enough to call themselves that. They hadn't even left him dead, just bruised and unconscious. The man who had fought legions of the undead, who had looked in the face of death in the hard vacuum of space and merely been surprised. Undone by a couple of young punks with nothing better to do.<p>

She carried him home.

* * *

><p>Looking into his sleeping face made her realize that while she would never kill herself while he was there, she would also never do it while he wasn't there. Which meant she would never kill herself. Which meant she was going to live.<p>

She stood and stretched, feeling like she'd just woken up from a long illness.

She was going to live.


	4. Chapter 4

They traveled.

It turned out Chaplin did have quit a bit tucked away for a rainy day, enough for two people to spend a comfortable few months flying wherever their fancy took them, staying in hotel rooms, eating in fancy restaurants. It was almost like being back in the Foot again, only less death and destruction and terror and more people waiting on her hand and foot if she wanted them to. Chaplin, who had apparently grown up rather poor and had never stayed in a motel, started a collection of Gideon Bibles, which Karai indulged with a luxuriousness she'd never experienced. If the man wanted a thousand or more books cluttering up his apartment, why not let him?

April called while she was in Fiji getting a massage at a spa, and she waved aside her apology with an ease she knew had April worried. The thought made her laugh. While she was in Germany April called to let her know that Casey had unknowingly begun training at Khan's dojo. Karai was thoughtful for a moment, and then told her that if Khan had mismanaged the Foot so badly that he had to start recruiting people like Casey, she could consider that a victory. April laughed. The most surprising thing was that Karai laughed too.

She was in Honduras plying her hand at vigilantism when April told her the turtles were back.

She stood in the middle of her bunker, Chaplin safely back in the city at some scientific conference, and tried to fit what April had just told her into her head.

"Where were they? It has been over a year. How can they simply be back?"

April's voice had been hesitant when she told her the news, but she seemed to grow bolder when Karai didn't vow vengeance and crawl through the phone line back to New York. Or something.

"You're never going to believe this… They were in the future. Apparently my _great-grandson_…Well, anyway, they're back now. Um…"

She trailed off. Karai couldn't blame her. She knew she should call Chaplin, pack her bags, and catch the next plane back to La Guardia. But somehow… it didn't seem so important now. Oh, she still hated them, for what they did to her father and for what they made her realize about herself. But killing them would not bring back Oroku Saki, and something told her even bringing back Ch'rell would not do that either. She had known from the time she was thirteen that her father was actually an alien, and she had grown used to the idea. She had known of his plans for world (and eventually galactic) domination, and had shoved all the implications of that into the back of her mind, content merely to do as her beloved master and father ordered her to do. The second anniversary of her father's… passing, she had begun to call it, was not so very far away, and those two years loomed large in her memory, acting as a barrier between her and her vengeance.

"I am happy for you, Miss O'Neil," Karai said, wondering if she would ever feel comfortable calling her April, and then wondering why she wanted to. "I do not know when I will be back in New York, but I will call ahead when I return."

"Uh… thanks." April sounded far away, and not just because of the long distance. They exchanged a few more pleasantries, and then hung up. Karai thought she'd like to go to South Africa next. Or Malaysia. Whichever was furthest from New York.

* * *

><p>She was in India when she received the wedding invitation.<p>

It had followed her over quite a few continents, and the envelope was stained and had clearly been opened. She hoped nothing was missing from the contents, but the invitation itself was still mostly intact. The date and time were nearly illegible, having been printed in a script that was so fancy it was barely English, but she was pretty sure they would still be able to make it. Karai had seen wedding invitations before, from college friends who felt it was polite to include their frosty acquaintance on the guest list or rich socialites who wanted to make connections because of her father. This one was… unusual. For one thing, April's parents' names were totally absent. No one was giving her away to Casey, who only had one parent listed. For another, the location was listed simply as, "The Farmhouse."

"What farmhouse?" she muttered to herself. Chaplin murmured sleepily. She swatted at him from her chair next to the bed. "Why aren't you awake yet?" she demanded absently. "It is past noon."

He gave a great yawn and sat up, fumbling for his glasses.

"Well, I would have been awake sooner, but _somebody_ kept me awake all night," he teased, giving her a smile. She allowed herself a very small blush.

"I should not have been expected to know that the festival would last that long," she said primly. "I expected us to be home by ten."

He laughed.

"Seriously? When do festivals _ever_ end that early?"

She shook her head, not looking at him. It was still… awkward, for her, to share a hotel room with him. They had separate beds, but there was no avoiding the sight of each other first thing in the morning, and Chaplin apparently slept in his underwear. She had attempted to fix that by giving him a set of pajamas she'd gotten in Dubai, but he rebelled by only sleeping in the bottom half. His chest was far more muscular than a caffeine-addicted scientist's had any right to be, and he was developing a nice tan after months of travel in exotic places.

"What is that?" he asked, swinging his legs out of bed. She considered keeping it a secret, but it had been addressed to both of them.

"Miss O'Neil has invited the both of us to her wedding."

"Oh, really? Who's she getting married to?"

She gave him a disparaging look. He would have cringed, once upon a time. Today all he did was shrug.

"Well, I'm guessing Casey, but I didn't want to assume." He got out of bed, and she watched him surreptitiously.

"The only address I was given is 'the Farmhouse.' Does that hold any meaning for you?"

He stepped into the bathroom and called out, "Nope. Why don't you call and ask her?"

"I am going to," she said with mild irritation. "I simply thought it was odd."

"Well it is kinda weird. Maybe it's code for something?" Chaplin stepped out of the bathroom, brushing his teeth, and Karai pretended she'd been looking at the invitation the whole time.

"We shall see."

"So, wait—we're going? We're really gonna go?"

Karai quirked her mouth down at his surprise and looked him full in the face.

"Miss O'Neil is my friend. Of course we are going to her wedding."

The grin that slowly spread across his face was somehow worse than the surprise, and she pushed past him into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her. Only once she was alone did she allow herself her own smile: smaller and less exuberant, but equally genuine.


End file.
